Today kind of feels like the last day of school for me. The sun is out, I'm wearing shorts (yep, shorts), and I've packed up my desk (in an extra-large Tiffany's box, no less--they sponsor a few of our races). All I'm waiting for is my popsicle, my report card, and the final bell to ring so I can be released outside--away from teachers, books, and dirty looks (how does that song go again?). But this time, I don't have a three-month vacation ahead of me. It's more like three days--but I'll take it.
It seems as though my departure set off a bit of a trend. In just a few weeks, two of my co-workers will be enjoying the last-day-of-school feeling, too. This department will dwindle down to two full-time employees (when I started, we were about ten strong). It kind of makes me feel better knowing that I wasn't the only person who was unhappy (okay, miserable) working underneath a manager who can only be described as a manic, obsessive, psycho control-freak. Hopefully, the departure of three employees in rapid-fire succession will make the powers-that-be take notice and take action.
But I can't concern myself with those details anymore. I'm outta here. Sianora. Hasta La Vista. Peace out.
Now, where's that popsicle?
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